BACKFIRED !
by Bellegeste
Summary: You, Lily Evans, are an evil succubus! Trickery, deception, blackmail, rivalry, revenge, love and lust... A Marauders story featuring young Snape and 'Kick Ass' Lily.
1. A FOOLPROOF PLAN

**BACKFIRED !**

**By Bellegeste**

**Author's Note: This story is dedicated to Duj as a get well present after her operation. She knows why!**

**Canon tells us that Lily Evans was clever, kind, beautiful, a caring mother and (inexplicably) in love with James. She was also an Auror. As I see it, you can't be an Auror unless you are also tough and prepared to be ruthless…**

**This story is set in the Marauders' final year at Hogwarts, in the summer term. It is rated for occasional strong language and implied adult themes - nothing explicit. It's a quickie - 5 chapters.**

**Chapter 1:A FOOLPROOF PLAN**

"It'll never work," laughed Sirius, draining his Butterbeer to the dregs and wiping a white line of froth mingled with perspiration from his top lip. "But nice idea, all the same."

As a concession to the unseasonal heat the proprietor of the Hogshead had grudgingly allowed them to levitate their table outside onto the pavement. Sirius was beginning to wonder whether it would have been cooler inside, in the shade, even if the atmosphere inside the pub was unbreathable. He loosened the top and second buttons on his shirt for ventilation, and then, rather taken with the effect, unbuttoned the third.

"It _could_ work. I mean, James has really done his homework on this. I'd say go for it. Let's get the slimeball!" Peter, beady-eyed with admiration, defended James' plan keenly.

"Possibly." Sirius' attention was veering towards a pastel cloud of gauze-clad Hufflepuff sixth year girls, as they walked demurely down towards the High Street, carrying a wicker picnic basket, freshly baked baguettes and the neck of a wine bottle tantalisingly visible beneath the lid. "Looks like we could be on for a picnic, chaps, if we play our cards right." He was already lubricating the smile that would have them eating out of his hand. "Off to the lake, eh, girls? Lovely day for it. We might see you down there…" He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair, stretching his legs out, radiating the kind of confidently louche allure that set more than Hufflepuff hearts racing.

"Give it a rest, Padders. Don't you ever give up?" James had expected his scheme to get a more enthusiastic reception. But he too was casually running his fingers through his hair, fluffing the quiff.

"Just keeping my hand in. Practice, as they say, makes perfect. Besides, they might be planning on a swim. Bikini time, eh, boys?" He rolled back his shirt sleeve to reveal a tanned, well-defined forearm.

"I'm serious. I've got this thing all set up. It's a cert, this time. And we've got to do it today, while we're out of Hogwarts' wards." James was not to be swayed.

"Oh, go on then. Run it past me again." Sirius caught Maisie Linnet's eye as she cast a wistful backward glance over her shoulder, and gave a slow, suggestive wink that left her blushing with hot and cold flutters for the rest of the afternoon. "It was your round, I think, Peter. Same again," he stated, not bothering to waste the subtlety of a hint on his eager friend. Ever obliging, Peter eased his way inside and through the sweating customers to the bar. Once he was safely out of earshot, Sirius lowered his voice.

"You say you found it in the Restricted Section? Given the cloak another outing have we? I thought you said it was just a _Vanishing Spell_. Presumably you've tried it out? Does it work?"

"Like a Charm!" James gave his trademark boyish grin, his hazel eyes sparkling behind the glasses. "Bungled it the first few times, but I've got it down to a T now. Look, I've got it here."

He slipped a thin, soft-bound book out of his pocket and passed it under the table to his companion. Sirius leafed through the pages quickly, keeping it inconspicuously on his lap.

"Tut, tut. Liberating literature from the Restricted Section? What would dear Pincer-face have to say about that? So what's it called again?"

"_Directed Vanishing_. I've marked the page. But there's nothing to it really. Wish we'd known about it before. Vanishing spells are always so unpredictable - you never know where the stuff's going to end up, or when it'll turn up again - if it ever does. Hey, do you remember that time Snelling disappeared out of Charms and re-materialised in the lake? But this one's a cracker of a spell. It's virtually a DIY Portkey kit." James could hardly contain himself. "I can't wait to try it on that -"

"And you're sure we don't have to register it?" Sirius had scanned the basic spell and was now poring over the footnotes, searching the small-print for the loophole that would land them into trouble with the Ministry. Not that that would necessarily have stopped him.

"Nope. As I said, it's tailor made for us! It has a limited range though - a maximum of ten miles - perhaps that's why nobody bothers with it. Not much cop for long distance travel. But today's a lovely day for a _walk_, wouldn't you say? A ten mile walk?"

"He'll be livid."

"Won't he though!"

"Who'll be livid?" Peter's small, pudgy fingers were hardly long enough to hold the three glasses and he set them hastily down on the grubby table. "Oh, you mean Snape? We're on, then? This'll be so great. Tell me again what I have to do…" he squeaked, almost bristling with excitement.

"Shouldn't we wait for Moony? When is that guy ever on time? If he doesn't get here soon I may have to amble on down to the lake. Do a spot of sunbathing… admire the view… if you catch my drift." Sirius took another long pull of poorly chilled Butterbeer. "Though if I down much more of this brew I'll be asleep all afternoon."

For someone who had turned flirtation into a virtual art form, James reflected, Sirius Black never seemed to be involved in any meaningful relationship. Spoilt for choice, perhaps. Unlike himself and Lily Evans - he was definitely making progress there. She hadn't been a pushover by any means, but perseverance had paid off. How long had they been going out now? Two months? Two tempestuous, glorious months! He supposed the feistiness and the fiery temper went with the red hair - but could she honestly blame him for being jealous when he knew that pretty much every bloke in Hogwarts was lusting after her? Did she have to be so infuriatingly _friendly_ with everyone? She was even civil to that creepy, Slytherin git.

Peter's nervous sips were making scant inroads on the contents of his own glass. He was fidgeting, waiting for a break in the conversation.

"I, er, um. Actually, chaps, Remus gave me a message. He can't make it. Bit too soon to the, er - you know." He cast his eyes upwards. The blue dome of the early summer sky showed no traces of a moon, full or otherwise, but his friends instantly understood what he meant.

"Blimey! Is it that time again already? I'd forgotten. Poor old Remus - it's a double blow when it messes up a Hogsmeade weekend too. Below the belt."

"Sirius'd know all about that," chipped in Peter, attempting risqué humour. "Er, _below the belt_…?"

Nobody laughed.

"Are we all OK for tonight then? 'Shack' attack? Usual time and so on? Marauders' Mission of Mercy? Wolf watching?" asked Sirius.

"Shh! You know, Pads, he wouldn't like it at all if he knew you talked about him like that - behind his back," Peter pointed out earnestly.

"Which is precisely why, my fat friend, _we're not going to tell him_, are we?" Sirius gave Pettigrew a playful prod in the chest. "Fair enough, we'll have to count Moony out of this one. Probably just as well - he might get all Prefect-y on us and stuff it up."

"He's only doing his job," Peter objected.

"Quite the diplomat today, aren't you Worm? But it's a dangerous principle. Wars have been fought for less. And, may I say, it's no defence in a court of law. So, you're saying you support the elitist educational standpoint that a number of non-democratically elected individuals should be elevated to positions of arbitrary authority over their peers and - "

"Oh, cut it out, you two," muttered James impatiently. Though, as Head Boy, he should really have been defending his status. He wished Sirius didn't always patronise Peter so. "If we want this to work we've got to concentrate. Merlin! Where's he gone now?"

For throughout their conversation, James had been maintaining a careful, covert surveillance of their target – Severus Snape.

"He was there just a moment ago, at that table just inside the door. He was having a beer with Malfoy."

"Beer? One might almost think the guy was human."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far!"

"Shut up! No, look, there he goes! Into the Apothecary. Slippery as a squashed slug and yet so boringly predictable! How did I know the greaseball would end up in there? Right, men, this is it! Peter, you pop over to _Gladrags_ and find Lily - she's buying a new skirt or something - and tell her that if she wants to get her gorgeous mitts on the special, secret present I've been hinting at all week, she'd better meet me on the corner outside _Scrivenshafts_ **now**. Go on!"

Peter scuttled off.

"She'll go for that. Women are suckers for a mystery. And a _leetle_ _soupçon_ of romance. Even Lily. Likes to pretend she's so clever and capable but really, underneath it all she's a total pussy-cat." James was still in the doting throes of infatuation. "She's completely adorable, Sirius. She's a peach of a girl! Soft and fragrant and feminine and rounded in _all_ the right places and…"

"Juicy? With a heart of stone? Bite too deep and you break your teeth?" Sirius preferred strawberries. Lily was nice enough, but a little too _serious_ for Sirius' taste. Too opinionated, too independent, too impervious to his dazzling charms… "As I see it, James," said Sirius, "the mystery is why Evans has to be involved at all. That is designed to preserve our anonymity - how? Snape'll immediately put two and two together and come up with the 'Golden Couple'. Or am I missing something here?" There was a distinct note of doubt in his voice.

"Have I got this right?" he went on. "You've already put the _Vanishing Spell _onto her diary, yes? Which is in her bag. So, she's standing there like a lemon, waiting for you supposedly, and Snape walks past…"

"He's got to come that way from the Apothecary," James pointed out.

"Yes, I get that. But then what? He sees her, and then what? If she's got any sense she'll run a mile. Or what if she sees us?"

James answered more confidently than he felt.

"She thinks we're at _The Three Broomsticks_. She won't be looking down this way. Then I levitate the diary out of her bag. It falls on the floor, Snape picks it up… The moment he touches it, I'll activate the spell while you do _Expelliarmus!_ and get his wand and - hey presto! - Snivellus disappears into the middle of next week!"

"She's on her way now." Peter arrived back, puce and breathless. "Middle of next week? You didn't say anything to me about time travel." He sounded aggrieved.

"Figure of speech, Peter. Figure of speech. You've not missed anything," James reassured him, one eye still fixed on the door of the Apothecary. "I've 'directed' the spell at that old Rangers Hut up on the Cairnmhor Trail - d'you remember, we saw it that time we did the Flying Endurance Training? It's not much more than a shed really, but I had to have a specific location for the spell - couldn't just say 'Dump the sod in the middle of nowhere and leave him there'. I originally wanted to jettison him on the summit of Hog's Crag - you know, where the 'Trig' point is, but it was just out of range. But the Hut'll do. I've measured it on the map and it's getting on for ten miles away - as the owl flies." The cheeky gleam lit his face again. "But going cross-country, on foot, I'd say it could easily be… phew! a lot further!"

"And I perform _Expelliarmus!_ because…?" queried Sirius.

"No real reason really. I just thought it would be better if he didn't have his wand. Then he can't do a _Summoning Charm_ to get a broom to fly back on, or send up sparks or anything. Or Apparate. The bastard'll have to walk. Serve him right. Anyone notice what kind of shoes he's got on?"

Sirius gave his friend a look of undisguised affection, opening his arms in an expansive gesture.

"What a plan, James! Foolproof in every way! How could it possibly fail? No margin for error there whatsoever! Merlin's Beard! If we manage to pull this one off, the drinks are on me! Pure genius, James. And such _sang froid_! You're learning, my friend! I salute you." Sirius raised his glass. "There is, however, one minor flaw. Just a wee, weeny, pauco problemo. To whit: I don't get it. I still can't see why you have to drag Lily into all this. I am assuming she doesn't know what's going on. No? I thought as much. Wait - humour me a minute – give me one good reason why someone - Peter here, for instance - couldn't simply hand Snivelly a spelled book, or get an owl to deliver him a spelled letter. Forget all that rigmarole with the diary and levitating and dropping… Oh James, you don't half complicate the issue!"

Peter had been nodding his shared confusion, and now stared expectantly at James. His friend's face was bullish.

"Reason? You want a reason? I'll give you a reason. It's to show that hook-nosed sleaze what's coming to him if he as much as **looks** at Lily again. It makes me sick the way he sniffs around her like she's some bitch on heat. Can't he see she's not interested? She won't have a bar of him. But I've seen the way he letches at her. And it's not on. I won't have it!"

Up until this point Sirius had been assuming that James must have overlooked the cautionary footnotes in the spell book. One clearly warned, in bold print, that _Directed Vanishing_ was applicable to inanimate objects only and _on no account_ was to be used for human teleportation. (Naturally, Sirius had _not_ been intending to draw his friend's attention to the clause.)

"Decoy deployed!" announced Peter happily, enjoying himself.

"What?"

"Lily. She's there. Outside _Scrivenshafts_."

And there she was, James saw, beautiful and radiant, craning that soft, kissable neck to catch a glimpse of him, as she thought, hurrying to meet her through the crowd of weekend shoppers.

And now there was Snape emerging from the shop, squinting in the sunlight, a parcel under one arm, pausing on the threshold to re-check the receipt before tucking it neatly away into an inside pocket. Dressed in his habitual black, his tall, skinny figure stood out sharply amongst the pale shirtsleeves and sundresses in light muslins or floaty cheesecloth.

x

x

x

She had her back to him, but he'd recognise that hair, that figure anywhere. He swivelled in her direction just as, it seemed, she hitched her bag more comfortably up on her shoulder and something fell to the floor, almost at his feet. A small, violet book.

"Evans! You've dropped something," he called, bending…

"Don't you _dare_ touch that!" she cried, diving forwards…

**End of chapter. Please leave a comment!**

**Next chapter: THE LADY VANISHES. **


	2. THE LADY VANISHES

**BACKFIRED !**

**By Bellegeste**

**A/N: Couldn't resist the title of this chapter! OK, so we have a few clichés here - contrived scenario leading to a confrontation, etc etc. but, it's not so much the jokes, it's the way you tell 'em…**

**Incidentally, if you were wondering why this is classified as part parody, it was more that there wasn't a tick-box for 'ever so slightly tongue-in-cheek'…**

**Chapter 2:THE LADY VANISHES**

Lily felt as though she had been dismantled and then put back together again, very badly, by a careless, clumsy child. Everything ached; nothing worked. Her brain was issuing incomprehensible instructions in demotic Russian or ancient Mandarin or some tribal dialect with clicks and whirrs and glottal stops, but none of it made any sense. Her baffled nerves were directing the messages straight back, 'return to sender'.

Spread-eagled, she thought, when eventually she could think at all. I am lying here - somewhere – _spread-eagled_. She liked the feel of the word in her head; it felt solid and dependable and a lot more comfortable than the position itself. Spread-eagled. Spread-eagled. She said it to herself several times until the syllables ceased to have any meaning…

After a while it occurred to her that her skirt - the cream, layered cheesecloth wrap-over that James liked so much – was bunched up under her waist and that her legs were bare and exposed to view. But it didn't occur to her to move. James? That name sounded familiar. She had once known someone called James, sometime… I am lying somewhere, _spread-eagled_, with my skirt hoiked up and I once knew someone called James? It struck her as faintly ludicrous and she smiled vacantly into the grass…

Spread-eagled bare legs… that is most unladylike… unbecoming… unflattering… unacceptable… uncovered… uncensored… unwise… The list of unconnected 'un-' words undulated uncontrollably in her mind… uncomfortable… unconscious…

When she woke again the heat was going out of the sun and the breeze felt chill against her bare legs. Bare legs? Lily pushed herself to her knees, her body still heavy and unresponsive, brushing away dust and leaves from her blouse, modestly pulling the skirt to cover her ankles. Feeling a tickle in her hair she reached up and extricated a struggling Sedge Beetle, its busy legs kicking frantically against the dense net of curls. She threw it away from her with a yelp of disgust. Her cheek - she felt it tentatively - her arms, her thighs were mottled with the purple impress of crushed heather. Her head reeled; her stomach lurched. She knew she was only seconds away from being sick. Very sick.

It cleared her head a little, and she scrambled away a few yards and sat back on the heather, hugging her knees as she watched the flaming disc sinking to the horizon, leaving its trail of burnished fire reflected in the distant, darkening lake. A lake. Was that Hogwarts' lake? There was no way of telling. She looked about her, trying to get a fix on her surroundings, her emotions curiously disengaged. This wasn't right - where was the panic, the fear? All she felt was a profound sense of her unimportance in the universe, dwarfed by the vast expanse of nature, a single white spec on a huge, sombre, empty landscape. Hugging, silently rocking, she sat through a stage of torpor, adjusting to the sheer scale of her isolation.

Move. Was she going to sit here forever? She began lacing up her loosened, unravelled thoughts, pulling them into line, into shape, into coherence, and fastening them with a tight and - at last – angry knot. Where the heck was she? And why?

Judging from the sunset she was on a southern facing slope. Lower down, the hill appeared thickly wooded, with sessile oak growing right up to the lake shores. Higher up the oak thinned out, to be replaced by patches of native pine and birch; higher up still, beyond the tree line, the scrub and heathers gradually ceded place to grasses, moss and lichen and above that, rock. Lily guessed she was about half way up.

She had been lying, she now realised, near some kind of a path or track. And behind her - how could she not have noticed it before - was a hut. Not much more than a bus-shelter affair, but at least it was shelter of some sort. Perhaps there would be someone there. Someone to help her. Shakily she got to her feet, straightened her clothing, smoothed her hair, brushed herself down once more, and began to trudge up the hill.

The patch of ground in front of the hut was compacted hard, several black-grey circles of ash denoting past fires - camp fires. Against one wall a barrel formed a brimming water butt. Brimming with what? Lily was too thirsty to care. Bypassing the crude, wooden ladle hooked over the edge of the barrel and ignoring the dirty enamel pitcher that lay discarded on the ground, Lily plunged her arms straight in, scooping up a dripping handful. She drank deeply, splashing the cold water onto her face, sluicing away the numbing remnants of the spell.

Then she went inside.

XxXxX

"Mother of Merlin! Damn and blast and buggeration!" cried James, aghast.

"You might say that," agreed Sirius, equally perplexed, though with less at stake personally.

"What happened?" whispered Peter. "Where'd they go?"

"Where do you think, Worm-brain?" Sirius asked, amusement breaking through the surprise. He tapped Peter lightly on the forehead with the two wands he was holding.

"What were you saying before, Prongs? Lovely day for a walk? Lily _like_ walking, does she?"

"She'll kill me. I'm dead meat." James' face was tragic. "I'm done for! I'll never live this down. What a cock-up! We'll have to go and get them. We'll have to…" He was thinking out loud, planning as he went along. "…we'll have to leg it back to Hogwarts, get our brooms, get _their_ brooms… fly out to Cairnmhor and try to find them… Oh hell - what if the spell didn't work? What if they're not there? What if - ?"

What if they're _splinched_ somewhere? No one dared say it.

"Drink!" proclaimed Sirius. "What we need is a drink. Come on - but not back to that foul flea-pit. Let's hit _The Three Broomsticks_."

"Sirius! There isn't time!" wailed James.

"Exactly. That's my point entirely. We do not have time for any of that. Have you both forgotten about Remus?"

In the shock of the moment, they had.

"We can't let him down." For all his cavalier attitude, Sirius was staunchly loyal to the werewolf. "James, old man, whatever you do about Lily - rescue her or leave in the clutches of the Slytherin sex-machine…"

"You're not helping," mumbled Peter.

"…you are well and truly in the poo. Dragon dung up to your neck, I'd say. You can't escape. What this calls for is a bit of lateral thinking. You're not telling me the combined creative genius of the Marauders can't work out a damage limitation strategy? Come along."

"This is all a big joke to you," moaned James, enraged that Sirius could take the crisis so calmly. Hands thrust fiercely into his pockets he stomped down the High Street after him. Sirius clapped his arm round his shoulder.

"Chin up, James. 'Faint heart never won fair maiden'. Right. First things first. Does that book of yours say anything about spell reversal? _Un-Vanishing Spells_?"

Glumly James shook his head.

"Pity. OK, so where does that get us?"

"Up shit creek! Look, Sirius, I wish you'd stop waving that sneak's wand about - he's probably got an _Anti-Theft Hex_ on it or something. It'll have your hand off any second. You know what those wretched Slyths are like."

"I do. I most certainly do. _Eureka!_ I do, you do, even Peter here does, and - wait for it – _so does Lily_. And that, my friend, is the solution to our problem. Don't you see? You're off the hook, James!"

Too gloom-laden to be cheered by his friend's flippancy, James did not see.

"Has Lily seen this here book of yours? No? Has she even heard of a _Directed Vanishing Spell_? No. There you go! What is there to connect you in Lily's mind with anything at all? One minute she's staking out a romantic rendezvous, the next minute she's accosted by the slimy Snake-Charmer, and then Wham! She's whisked off to Merlin knows where. What's she going to think?"

"That Snape…?" James hazarded.

"Precisely! That the evil Slytherin has kidnapped her. It's perfect. It's almost, if I may say so, better than the original plan."

"He'll deny it," said Peter.

"Course he will," said Sirius airily. "But will she believe him? Methinks he will _protest too much_. And she's not going to be impressed. No Siree!"

Even James had to admit that this scenario had possibilities.

"She's got one hell of a temper. She'll be scary. Fearsome."

"I don't fancy being in Snape's shoes!"

"But they're still _together_. What if…?" James could not entirely dismiss his suspicions.

"Not a chance, old bean. Can you think of anything more likely to put you off a bird than being ranted at solidly for hours on end while you're climbing down a mountainside? You're hot, you're tired, you're thirsty, you've got stones in your socks, and all the while you're getting it in the neck from some screaming red-haired Harpie - sorry, Prongs! But you said it yourself, she's not going to take this _lying down_…"

"Still not helping…" murmured Peter.

"Romantic potential: nil, zero, zilch, nada. You've just got to keep _stumm_ and make a big thing about how frantically worried you've been about her. That'll get you back in her good books. Give her that present. In fact, if we cover for her so that she doesn't get a detention from Filch for getting back late, you'll be her hero for life."

"And Snape will cop the Detention!"

Suddenly it was sounding better and better.

**End of chapter.**

**Next chapter: A SPINELESS CREEP. 'Kick Ass' Lily is not impressed!**


	3. A SPINELESS CREEP

**BACKFIRED!**

**By Bellegeste**

**Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of JKR and her publishers. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Thanks to everybody who has reviewed. What happens to Snape here is something of an 'in joke' - not that it's particularly funny for him. **

**There is some strong language in this and the remaining chapters - though probably less than the situations would generate in real life.**

**Chapter 3:A SPINELESS CREEP**

"You!"

The first thing Lily saw on entering the hut was the seated form of Snape. She drew the obvious conclusion.

"What the** hell** do you think you're playing at, Snape? What's going on? What do you want? Where are we? What is this? Send me back **at once**." She was too angry to be scared of him.

Snape didn't answer. He didn't even look at her. Incensed, she took a threatening step towards him.

"You will send me back to Hogwarts **this minute**, Severus Snape, or I won't be responsible for my actions." As threats went it was rather lame, but she didn't know Snape well enough to know how far she could go. It was easy with James and co. - they were all fundamentally nice lads - they'd never let things get out of hand, but the Slytherin was an unknown quantity. It wasn't that she was afraid - she'd always considered him eccentric rather than dangerous – but maybe she'd been wrong about him; maybe the rumours were true. The present situation had the potential to turn nasty. She calmed her voice with an effort.

"Do you hear me? I'm asking you why you've brought me here? What the heck do you think you're going to achieve by this infantile stunt? Am I supposed to be impressed? Well, I'm not, so there! _Impressed_? That's a laugh! I've been spelled out of my brain for the last few hours, lying on some scratchy, ant-infested hillside; I'm covered in insect bites, and I still feel like death-warmed-up, so I'm not going to put up with any rubbish from you. Get it? You can take your stupid, sordid, Slytherin scheme, and you know where you can stick it! I want to know what poison you gave me, and how you got me up here, and **WHY**. And you could have the decency to look at me when I'm speaking to you."

At that Snape did raise his head. His face was chalk white. There was a patch of something pale and crusty which might have been vomit on the front of his lapel. Evidently he wasn't feeling too brilliant either. Good. Lily was glad.

"It's got nothing to do with me," he hissed.

Lily was taken aback. She had been expecting a snarling tiger, and she'd got a Kneazle. But she was too insulted, too outraged to let it drop.

"Don't give me that! Don't you try to deny it, you spineless creep. I'm here, aren't I? You've obviously lured me up here for some sick reason - was it a joke? A dare? Surely to goodness you didn't think I'd _want_ to spend time with you? You've got another think coming! Well? Snape?"

He was sitting rigidly upright on the rough, wooden chair, his hands gripping the seat awkwardly, tense and unnatural. Lily made a rapid diagnosis: guilt.

"Evans…" He said something else, but his voice was so low she only caught one word: 'twisted'.

"Twisted!" she shouted. Disgust re-awakened the furies within her. "You don't need to tell me you're twisted. You're a warped, revolting pervert, that's what you are. What are you doing - building up to some kind of kinky seduction? Dream on! Is this the best you could come up with? And everyone always says you're such an intellectual. Huh! As for what went on out there - _if you so much as laid a finger on me_ while I was bespelled… One finger… This is just plain sick. And you… you're a sad, pathetic_ schoolboy_. If I wasn't so angry I'd be _sorry_ for you."

She could see his shoulders clenching and a kind of spasm crossed his face, but he didn't fight back. Lily was puzzled.

"If you won't send me home, at least give me my wand. I'm off. I'm not staying anywhere with you. Snape? My wand?"

"Stay away from me!" He growled a warning, but, strangely, still made no move to stop her.

"You can't catch it, you know," she shot at him.

"What? Catch what?"

"Being a 'Mudblood'. 'Mudblood scum' - isn't that what you call me?" She spoke the words defiantly. "It's not contagious."

"No, just offensive," he sneered.

"So why have you got me here then? Letting your standards slip, aren't you? Do you know what? It's you who are the scum - you and your bigoted Pureblood friends. I don't know why I'm even talking to you. But look, I'm asking nicely, 'Pretty please, Mr Snape, may I have my wand.'"

Lily moved towards him. She'd wrestle the wand off him if she had to.

"Don't touch me!" The flash of raw panic in his voice stopped her dead. Now that she was closer she could see trickles of sweat lining his ashen face; his arms, braced on the chair, were trembling with the strain of supporting his body weight. From his stillness she could see that there was something very wrong.

"Snape?"

"Go away!"

"What is it?"

"It's nothing. Go away and leave me alone. Just piss off, all right? You said you wanted to go - I'm not stopping you."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. What do you care? Go away. Go back to Lucky Jim and have a good laugh. Isn't that what it's all about?"

"Severus, what's happened? Are you hurt?"

"It's my back. I can't move. I've twisted my back," he whispered. The dark eyes pleaded with pain.

"Is it broken?" _It couldn't be. How could she cope with a spinal injury out here? _"Can you feel your legs? Wiggle your toes?"

"It's not broken!" he snapped. "I told you, it's… 'twisted'. I'm locked. Whichever way I try to move…"

The opportunist in Lily told her that now would be a good time to take back her wand and go, while he was unable to follow her; the humanist told her she had to stay and help. She was too kind-hearted to leave anyone to suffer, even Snape. For all the freaky, sinister image he was, after all, just another hormone-fuelled, deluded, inexperienced eighteen year old, like James and the other lads.

"If you let me have my wand, I'll conjure you a stretcher," she suggested gently.

"I haven't got your bloody wand!" he exploded. "I haven't even got **my** wand. I don't know where we are. I don't know why we're here. It's got f--- all to do with me!"

Lily believed him.

Smoothing her hands up and over her forehead, she pushed the exuberant, red curls away from her face and eyed Snape uneasily. If he hadn't masterminded this fiasco, who had?

"Well, you can't stay there like that," she said.

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"You don't have to bite my head off! It's not **my** fault we're here either."

She could tell he was in pain, but did he have to be so aggressive? He was like a wounded wild animal, lashing out at would-be rescuers. Casting her eyes round the hut, she searched for inspiration, for anything that might be useful. The place was bigger than she had at first thought, but that wasn't saying a great deal. Apart from the chair that Snape was on there wasn't much to see: another similar chair and an equally basic bench-table, all of which looked like rejects from an elementary carpentry workshop. Against the back wall were two narrow bunks, hardly more than wide shelves really, each with a thin mat - they didn't deserve to be called mattresses. The left hand wall sported another, empty shelf and a variety of hooks and pegs. Above her head four rails stretched from one side of the hut to the other, about a foot below the ceiling, serving no function whatsoever as far as she could tell. A grey, filthy rag which might once have been a towel hung on the back of the door. The last rays of pinkish evening light peered through the single window, filtered through cobweb nets.

"What is this dump?" Lily sighed to herself. "How did we end up here?"

She turned back to Snape.

"Do you think you can walk at all? I mean, if you leaned on me, could you make it over to that bunk?"

"**No!**"

"Fine! Have it your own way. I'm only trying to help."

"I don't need _your_ help."

"No, you never need anybody, do you? One day, Snape, in about a hundred years from now, you're going to wake up and find you're a lonely old wizard, and no one could care less. And when that day comes, don't come flying to me, because it'll be too late."

Too proud, too independent, too rude - these Slytherins were the limit!

"You don't understand," he gasped. "The slightest movement, in any direction… You might jar me… I know that sounds feeble, but you've no idea how… I've got to do it on my own – I just don't know if I can. I'll have to… ahh!"

There was a sharp intake of breath and Snape froze as lightning forked through his nervous system. Lily would have said it was impossible for him to look any paler - she would have been wrong.

"Got to lie down," he muttered faintly. "On the floor."

"Can I do anything?" she offered.

"Yes," he said harshly. "Go away. Don't watch. It's bad enough without you watching me too."

Lily retreated as far as the doorway then stopped, out of sight, but still observing him, fascinated and appalled. Snape moved like a Tai Chi Master in slow, slow-motion, muscle by muscle, contracting, tensing, flexing; an imperceptible shifting of weight and balance, until he had progressed from the sitting position to something approaching vertical. His knuckles were pressed hard onto the table-top, still supporting his weight, white and quivering. By infinitesimal degrees he slid a step forwards, first one foot and then the other. Then he was lowering himself, back held ram-rod straight, bending at the knees, thighs taking the strain until his knee-caps finally made contact with the earthen floor. At this stage, it seemed to Lily, he got stuck. He tried several directions, several positions - left hand down there, two hands, an elbow bent, each unsuccessful shift punctuated by that hissing breath and jolt into shocked rigidity. It would have been comical had it not marked, Lily realised, an intensity of pain beyond anything she had experienced or could even imagine. Finally, with a ghastly, inhuman whimper – a squeal like a rabbit caught in a gin-trap, but suppressed, stifled – he let himself topple sideways onto the floor and lay there panting.

"Oh my God! Snape? Are you all right?" Lily knelt beside him.

"What does it bloody look like?" His face was slicked with sweat.

"It looks like you're in agony."

He didn't answer. He shut his eyes and turned his head away, ignoring her. After a minute Lily got up and went outside. The sun had all but disappeared now, and stars were breaking through the twilight. The sky was still clear; after the heat of the day it would be a chilly night. Catching her skirt up by the hem, Lily stroked the soft fabric regretfully. It was James' favourite. Oh well, maybe he would buy her a new one. She began tugging at the lowest dirndl-frill until the seam rent and she could tear off a length. Soaking and wringing it out in the water-barrel, she returned to the prone figure of Snape and handed him the damp cloth.

"Here," she said.

He took it without comment and wiped his face, then made a few desultory rubs at the stain on his jacket.

"I threw up too," Lily told him. "When I first regained consciousness. I felt really awful."

"Is that meant to make me feel better?" he retorted icily.

She chose to laugh it off rather than take umbrage.

"Well, no, I suppose not. Don't know why I said it. Why should you care? So, what happened? Is it just your back?"

"Isn't that _enough_?"

"Well I don't know, do I? There could be all sorts of things you're not telling me. Do you still feel sick?"

"Only when I move," he admitted.

"What did you actually do to your back? Was it a spell?"

Snape shrugged, a gesture followed immediately by a wince.

"Merlin knows! All I know is, I woke up wrapped round that damn table."

"Does it feel any easier now that you're lying flat?" the girl asked gently. She could give as good as she got when she had to, but she was caring by nature. His breathing seemed a little less snatched now.

He shrugged again, tensed, gasped and dropped his head back to the floor with a groan.

"It still f------ hurts, if that's what you mean."

"Can I get you anything?"

"How about a shot of Firewhisky with a Painless Potion chaser," he sniped back. "No, on second thoughts, make it a double. What? Can't you manage that? I'll just have to stick with the wet rag then. Evans, if you can't say anything useful, just shut up and leave me alone."

"Fine! I'll do that!" Lily glared at him, shocked by the sudden spit of bitterness. Did he have to be so objectionable? But she wasn't going to let him tell her to shut up. Who did he think he was?

"You shouldn't drink that stuff. Firewhisky. Rot gut. Why do you think it's called the Devil's Dram? What're you trying to do - burn off your few remaining brain cells?"

"Spare me the sermon, Evans! I don't need health advice from the likes of you. Who do you think you are - Wizard Welfare? Don't lecture me. Save your cosy homilies for that limp lap-dog, Potter - I bet you've got him well-trained. What does he do - sit up and beg? Roll over? Shake hands? Play dead? Does he _come_ when you whistle? Huh! Talk about the _tail_ wagging the - "

"Stop it! You don't have to be rude!" Lily wasn't exactly sure that Snape was being deliberately vulgar, but it sounded that way. Or was she reading too much into it?

"Do you actually _practise_ being obnoxious, Snape? Do you look into the mirror and _rehearse_ that sneer? 'Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the nastiest one of all?' Well, guess what? You win. Hands down. No contest."

Anger, abhorrence and compassion swirled within her - it was like coming across a newborn rat in a compost heap: bald, blind and defenceless - pitiable, really, but still vermin. Hunched and hurt, the mean-mouthed Slytherin was no threat. She could kick him while he was down; she could abandon him to stew in his own supercilious self-sufficiency. Or…

Fetching the grotty towel from the back of the door, she folded it into a thick pad. "Try this. Put it between your knees. It'll put your legs at a better angle for your spine."

He noticed and mutely appreciated the way - as with the cloth - she simply handed it over and left him to get on with it. No dabbing or fussing.

"I feel like a complete prat," he muttered sourly. "I suppose you think it's funny."

"Of course I don't! I'm not Ja- " The name petered into confusion as she heard herself saying it. Would James have considered Snape's plight amusing? She wouldn't have put it past Sirius to be malicious, and, increasingly these days, it seemed, James took his cue from his friend, at least where Snape was concerned. This could be their idea of a joke.

Moving with the terrible, controlled precision of an automaton, Snape worked one arm back and up until he could lift his head and rest it against his shoulder. His eyes monitored Lily's progress as she stepped slowly round the hut, inspecting, examining the crude furniture, the pegs, the rafters even, and finally stopped by the window and stood staring into the drab distance, pensive and resigned. Her arms, grimly folded, hugging her waist, emphasised the swell of her chest. Snape eyed the curve of her breasts against the summer blouse and inwardly railed against his pain, his ignominious immobility. Her presence was both a comfort and a curse. Had it not been for the blistering reality of her anger he might have suspected collusion - in a plot to torment him, to taunt him with her unavailability. And yet he was the one insisting that she kept her distance. The irony escaped him in a moan of frustration.

Lily looked up anxiously.

"This is a walkers' hut," Snape told her, bolstering himself with the only means available - factual authority. "I've flown over a couple like this on Quidditch training exercises. There's one every twenty miles or so for those deluded Muggles who think that Trail Walking is a worthwhile occupation. They can hole up here if the weather closes in. Or in emergencies. They're not designed for comfort. Those racks up there are for drying their sleeping bags."

Lily interpreted this volunteering of information as a trade-off for the towel. She took it as a thank you, or as much of one as she was ever likely to get.

"I wonder which Trail we're on."

"Not too observant, are we Evans? If you bothered to use your eyes, you'd see the words 'Cairnmhor ' carved into the door lintel."

Stung and rebuffed, Lily clenched her teeth. The swine! Just when she thought he was beginning to talk to her like an equal, and not a member of some contemptible underclass. How could he be lying injured on the floor and still manage to come up with that infuriating sarcasm? Walking back over to the door, she examined the lettering – not out of interest, but just to put some distance between her and Snape. If she stayed any closer she might have slapped him. Outside the moon was rising.

"It's getting dark. Gosh, look at the time! Do you know, we must have been unconscious for hours. What kind of a spell would do that?"

Snape gave her a shrewd, sideways glance.

"Didn't he tell you?"

"Who? What on earth do you mean?"

"Come off it, Evans. _Lover Boy_, who else? Him or his side-kick, Black. Don't treat me like a fool."

"You think James had something to do with this? That's ridiculous. He wouldn't want to hurt me. You really are a fool, if that's what you think." Lily indignantly defended James, but the niggle of doubt was gnawing at her certainty. That peculiar, urgent message from Peter to meet James outside _Scrivenshafts_ - she'd thought it was suspicious at the time.

"He's not so squeamish about hurting me though," Snape continued in acid tones. "It's never stopped him before."

"That's a lie!"

"Oh, hasn't he told you about his other little, _lethal_ prank? Quite the practical joker, your boyfriend. And I thought you two had no secrets! You'd better ask him. Ask him about the Shrieking Shack!"

Lily slammed the door of the hut behind her. She stared out into the unrelenting Highland darkness. Within her the likelihood of Snape's accusations warred with her belief in James' integrity. That ridiculous feud! She knew it was still going on, old antagonisms fermenting beneath the surface. James detested Snape, she knew he did. But Snape was notoriously vindictive too… No, he was in pain, she told herself, he was retaliating at an easy target. Then again, however snide and mean the Slytherin might be, she had never known him to tell such a bare-faced lie. Oh, James! James!

A brisk wind was blowing up the hillside and Lily shivered, the flimsy cotton offering little protection against the night air. Reluctantly she sidled back into the hut.

"Sent it?" Snape's voice snarled out of the shadows.

"I'm not speaking to you." _Sent what?_

"Or was it a prearranged signal? What's the matter? Is he late? Perhaps he's forgotten. Or got a better offer. Perhaps he's otherwise engaged…"

"I don't know what you're talking about! Shut up about James!" Lily flared back at him.

"Oh, my mistake," Snape sneered. "Going by the number of times you've checked your watch in the past hour, I thought you were expecting somebody…"

It was true, Lily admitted to herself. Snape was uncannily correct. Part of her had hoped - _hoped_, not expected - that James would come to her rescue, not because of some shady, inside information, but following a sixth sense, a lover's instinct. She had hoped he would come to find her and save her. Her knight on a white charger.

"What if I was? Anyway, he won't be coming now. It's too late. There's a full - " Lily bit her tongue; she shouldn't be saying this to Snape. She wasn't even supposed to know herself. For months she'd been maintaining the pretence that Remus' condition was still a big secret. Recalling James' string of noble but transparent excuses not to see her at certain times of the month, she smiled fondly. "- full water-butt." Re-editing the sentence hastily, she tried to make it sound sensible. "If you want a drink there's a full water-butt."

Chilled and aching on the hard floor, Snape was shifting his position, manoeuvring himself over with that horrible, mechanical slowness.

"You were going to say ' full moon'." His eyes met hers, challenging and provocative. "What a night for Gryffindor heroics. What do they do - _guard the cage_?"

"You _know_?" she asked simply.

Snape gave a bitter, hollow laugh.

"You should choose your friends more carefully, Evans."

"What would you know about _friends_?" she flung at him, intentionally hurtful, instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry. That was mean of me. Snape? Severus, what is it? Is the pain worse?" For he was shifting himself again, grimacing.

"Leave me alone." There was a catch in his voice which alarmed her more than anything so far.

"Please, let me help you. Tell me what's wrong. Are you cold? Hey, didn't you have a cloak? Where's your cloak?"

It was under the table. Lily dragged it out and began to tuck it round him, but he swatted her away.

"It's not that. It's… Merlin! If you must know, I need to… I need to… _you know_… I've got to pee. And I can't move… Satisfied? Glad you asked?" He sounded desperate. "Go away, will you!"

"Wait there," Lily exclaimed. _What a dumb thing to say!_ _Where would he go? _She dashed out to the barrel and fetched the enamel pitcher, praying to the gods that it didn't leak.

"I'll be outside," she told him, thrusting the jug into his hands and backing away quickly before either of them had a chance to register their embarrassment.

When Lily went inside again, Snape was lying on his back, his knees bent and with one arm flung across his face, the bony elbow pointing sharply upwards. He looked black and spiky and brittle, like a dead spider. Wordlessly Lily took the jug and emptied it, replacing it within his reach.

"Just say when you need to go, and I'll make myself scarce," she said matter-of-factly, pretending not to have noticed him shaking with silent, unshed tears. What must that admission have cost? Her heart went out to him. This shame, this degradation and helplessness were worse to the proud, private boy than any amount of physical pain. Instinctively she knew that the kindest thing to do was to ignore him.

Going over to the lower bunk she started to heave at the mattress. It yielded up a stale, yeasty smell like sun-dried silage, but did not feel damp to the touch. Given how thin it was, the weight of the mat took her breath away. It was like a body bag! Her mind filled with images of flattened Muggle walkers, crushed under the mass of their towering, brightly-coloured rucksacks and zipped up now inside the canvas ticking. She dragged it across to where Snape lay.

"I want you to ease yourself onto this mattress," she told him. "You can't stay on the floor all night, it's too cold."

"So? What's it to you?" His voice was muffled behind the shielding arm.

"Look, Snape, I may not _like_ you very much, but that doesn't mean I want you to get sick. I don't care how you do it, but I want you on that mattress," she said firmly.

It was just as well the lads weren't there - Sirius would have had a field day of innuendo with that one.

"It stinks," he objected.

"Beggars can't be choosers. It's insulation, and it's all we've got. Stop sulking and move!" she instructed, careful to excise all traces of pity from her voice. "And I'll get you a drink." She made a tactful exit.

By the time she returned with the ladle full of water he had, somehow, levered his long limbs across and was lying on his side, looking slightly queasy and breathing heavily, propped up on one elbow, the towel again clamped between his knees.

"I'm sorry, I should have brought you some before," apologised Lily when she saw how thirsty he was. "I'll get some more and leave it where you can reach it, and then I'll be off."

"Off? Off where?"

"Snape, you need medical help. I'm going for help."

"In the dark? In those shoes?" He was scathing.

Ruefully Lily glanced down at her feet. Espadrilles were not the ideal footwear for mountaineering. She wondered if he would do the honourable thing and offer her his cloak, but he seemed determined not to make her task any easier.

"And where, exactly, are you going? You don't even know where we are," he scoffed.

"I'll figure it out. The moon's bright. I can use the stars. I got good marks in Astronomy."

"Oh yes? And I suppose you got good marks in _Wandless Warming Charms _too? Evans, this is madness, even for one of you lot. Don't be so heroically _Gryffindor_. Do you know what altitude we're at? What if you met a Mountain Troll or a Graphorn? What would you do then? Do you know the first thing about crossing a marsh-bog? You won't get half a mile. You might as well sit on the step and watch for Mooncalves," he concluded, dismissive, ungrateful.

"At least I'm trying to do _something_," she cried. "I can't just sit here and watch you suffer." She let that sink in. "I'll be a good few hours - you should try and get some sleep."

On the threshold she paused for a mere second, checking the direction of the breeze, aligning the stars, before plunging into the darkness.

"Evans! Lily! Come back here! Lily!"

**End of chapter. OK, so I wanted Snape just slightly 'splinched' but well enough to argue… Transporter malfunctions are notoriously unpredictable - he could have ended up inside out (cf. Galaxy Quest) or with his atoms splattered across the entire universe, or re-materialised _within_ a Geoffreys Tube or a bulkhead…(cf. Star Trek).**

**Is Lily too stroppy? What do you think?**

**Next chapter: TALKING TOUGH**


	4. TALKING TOUGH

**BACKFIRED !**

**By Bellegeste**

**A/N: Tempted as I was to have Lily savaged by a passing monster, leaving Snape alone and helpless with only the sound of her dying screams in the darkness… this story just isn't THAT dark…**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed - I appreciate all your comments.**

**Chapter 4:TALKING TOUGH**

Underfoot the taut springiness of the heather gave way to something that popped and squelched. Lily's foot slipped sideways, and she stumbled, coming down heavily onto one knee amidst stickiness and prickles. Bilberries! Well, if her shoes weren't shredded by the walk they'd be ruined anyway now - stained purple. Though that was the least of her worries. Ahead and below, the distant disc of the moon shone steadily, remote and detached, reflected from the metallic black ink of the lake, a pale, perfect beacon in the night – her reference point and guide. She would follow the slope down, to the water's edge, and after that…

Snape's parting words were replaying themselves repeatedly in her mind. Not only that final, lonely appeal, but his earlier warnings. Had a Graphorn attack ever been recorded in this part of Scotland? Shivering with more than the cold, Lily picked herself up, casting a fearful glance back over her shoulder and into the silvered shadows of the mountain. Was there anything out there?

Senses alert to the faintest whisper in the darkness, Lily set off again, treading cautiously, wary of falling and perhaps turning an ankle. Then, borne clearly on the night air, came a sound that catapulted her heart into her throat and left it there pulsating, as she stopped her breath. An eerie, tremulous, drumming sound vibrated the stillness, an invisible, ghostly patter in the sky. Lily heaved a huge, slow sigh, blowing out through her mouth, deliberately, forcing herself to stay calm.

_Don't be so stupid, Lily Evans. It's a Snipe, it's only a Snipe. Get a grip. You can do this. Don't be so pathetic. What would they all say if they knew you were spooked by a silly bird?_

Misled by moonlight into prolonging his evening display, the proud Snipe rose and dropped, whirring, to the lake, oblivious to the trembling human crouching on the slope.

Without a wand, she just felt so incredibly vulnerable. If anything did happen, what could she do? Throw stones? Less confident now, Lily continued on her way. The bird's name had reminded her of Snape and the reason she was there in the first place; she quickened her stride. One shoe was rubbing already; the hem of her skirt kept snagging on thorns and thistles; she could feel a bruise blossoming on her right knee. A straggling line of pine trees lay between her and the lake shore. The tall, triangular shapes loomed towards her, as welcome as a geometry test, and she hesitated to pass into their spiny shade. Pine nuts and the hulls of fallen cones poked painfully into her soft soles, making walking uncomfortable and crunchy. A dry twig suddenly snapped, its pop-gun report ricocheting amongst the tree-trunks like a Crucio-ed Billywig.

Overhead something large clattered in the branches. Lily froze as a heavy, rounded body made a crashing descent through the boughs, landing in the gloom with an ungainly, flapping kafuffle. She couldn't make out what it was, but her heart was again pounding, instantly on red-alert, primed for panic. _Should she run now or stand her ground?_ _Don't run away from bears_, she thought, wildly. _Bears? There hadn't been wild bears in Scotland for hundreds of years_. The fear that all this time had been lurking at the back of her mind was swelling into a horrible suspicion. No, it couldn't be. That thing, whatever it was, was too small… But children could get bitten too…

Emitting a belching rattle of a cry, the creature made a sudden rush forwards and Lily dived behind the nearest tree, expecting it to rise up on hideously sinewed legs and leap for her neck. Instead it swelled and strutted on the spot, bustling in small circles and shrieking a series of plosive clucks. As it marched into a slice of moonlight, Lily saw it was a mature, male Capercaillie, normally the size of a full-grown turkey, but twice that now with its feathers fluffed, its rounded wings extended in a pompous show of territorial defence. She must have disturbed it while it was roosting.

Oh, Merlin! Lily's knees wobbled and she leaned for support against the rough bark. This was madness. Utter insanity. If she couldn't fend off a harmless grouse, what chance would she stand against something that was actively hostile? She could run, but that was about all. Snape couldn't even do that…

xxx

Of course, Snape was right. Lily had known that all along. She didn't have the proper equipment, or appropriate clothing, or a map, or even any clear plan as to where she was going. The twinkling stars were awfully pretty, but without knowing which direction she needed to be heading, they were about as much use to her as a goblin in a gift shop. What she proposed was risky, foolhardy and plain, downright stupid. Had she ever seriously intended to walk back to Hogsmeade or Hogwarts, or was it an extravagant gesture? Why had she even suggested it? Because it is what James would have done? Who did she want to impress - Snape or James?

Night-hiking, scrambling down goat tracks, across peat marshes and mud-flats, through gorse and heather, getting covered in scratches and blisters, ruining her clothes, fighting off vicious game-birds - it really wasn't her scene. But that wasn't what had stopped her, had turned her back to retrace her footsteps to the door of the wooden hut. No, it was the thought of Snape alone and unprotected, and the sound of her name shouted to the wind; her name, and the note of anxiety which no actor could have faked.

"You're right," she said bluntly, as if she'd been gone only minutes, coming in and pushing the door closed. "Why should I risk my life for you? You wouldn't do it for me."

In the dim interior it was impossible to tell whether it was relief or scorn shining in Snape's eyes. He was lying in the same position as when she had left him, huddled on the mat, looking cold and pinched.

"But somebody's got to fetch help sometime, and it doesn't look like it's going to be you," Lily went on in full-blown self-justification, expecting him to ridicule her early return, deflating when he didn't.

"At least wait until it's light," he whispered. Was that concern for her safety or mere pragmatism? Her chances of reaching the village would, after all, be higher in daylight. Preoccupied with his motives, she failed to register his next question - he was asking something about landmarks.

"What? Pardon?" Lily clicked to attention, reddening as if she'd been caught out daydreaming in class.

Snape summoned the tone of voice he usually saved for Prefect duty to shrivel the First Years to abject obedience.

"I said, 'Are there any significant landmarks?' Come on, Evans, you've been pioneering about outside, mounting your rescue mission - theoretically - I had assumed that would have made some attempt, however half-baked, to establish your bearings…"

"You're in no position to patronise me, Severus." She rebuked him mildly, distracted, straining to pin down an impression that had flitted inside with her from the darkness and was circling in her mind, battering against her consciousness like a trapped moth - that for all his supposed contempt, Snape was anything but indifferent to her. In stepping back into the hut she had, it seemed, crossed more than one threshold.

"The landscape. Topographical features. Anything of geographical interest. Describe it," he said, quietly authoritative once more.

"What's the point? What difference would it make? We're lost." Lily sighed, cold, hungry and disheartened, hugging herself and chaffing the goose-pimples on her arms.

"Describe it, and I'll tell you which part of the Trail we're on."

It was too dark to read his expression, but Lily did not need to see him to hear the smoothly triumphant note of victory in his voice. Her firework temper flared instantly.

"You bastard! You mean you've known all along? And you let me go out there… you knew it was dangerous! You were going to let me go wandering off completely unprepared… That's so mean! That's downright irresponsible, that's - "

"All right, if you'd rather not know…"

"How could you? You didn't say _anything_!" Lily stormed.

"**You didn't ask!**" Snape snapped back. "Damn you, Evans! You came barging in here, accusing me of everything under the sun, without even waiting to hear my side of the story. Go on, assume I'm the villain of the piece! I'm the foul-minded Slytherin, so automatically I'm the one to blame. Is that it? You've not stopped once to think about how I feel. You've no idea. Do you think **I** want to be stranded up here with **you**?"

"Don't you?" she volleyed, but she was questioning her complacency. "In case you hadn't noticed, Snape, I've been looking after you."

His figure tensed at the reminder of his dependence, but he snorted a retaliation.

"Only out of some blasted sense of duty. Charitable obligation. If there was anybody else around I wouldn't see you for dust. You'd be back to Potter like a homing pigeon. Admit it - it never even occurred to you that we might work through this problem together."

Snape had shoved her down so far into the wrong that, for a moment, she doubted if she would ever clamber back up onto an equal footing. Once again, he was right. Yet she still didn't trust him. There was a sense that backing off into an apology would be playing onto his hands. Lily was suddenly unsure of herself. She'd thought she'd held all the trump cards, but now she felt she was losing control. She felt strangely as though she were being sucked into some Slytherin mind game, and whatever course of action she decided to take it would be, in the end, precisely what Snape had wanted her to do all along. Even when he was upset - and this time he had some justification, she conceded - he had a confidence, an inner force which unsettled her. She eyed him, undecided, considering her options. If he knew something she didn't - and, let's face it, the odds were he did - it was only logical to pool their resources.

So, illustrating her account with sweeping ovals, ticks and angles in the air, and omitting any mention of wildlife, she described the mountainside, the slope, the curving arm of the lake, the pine trees, the wooded promontory on the far shore, the distant peak away to the north-west…

Snape listened without interrupting, visualising her sketchy picture, comparing her waved jottings with the aerial map in his memory.

"Well?" Either she was about to call his bluff, or they were on the verge of a breakthrough in terms of cooperation and communication.

"Hogsmeade is in that direction." Snape twitched his thumb towards the window. "You said there was a range of hills lying pretty much parallel with this one? You need to cross them - Hogsmeade lies in the valley on the far side. Alternatively - it's less direct, but probably safer - you could follow a route along the edge of the lake, then, once you've rounded the headland, cut south-east and follow the stream - that'll take you to the village. Whichever way you go, it's a long walk."

Lily still couldn't bring herself to forgive him fully for not sharing this knowledge before. It was precisely what she needed, but she wasn't going to fawn over him in gratitude for something he should have told her anyway.

"How do you know all this?" The question had a tinny, suspicious ring.

"You think I'm making it up? Yes, that'd be right. I'm having such a fabulous time here that I'm misleading you on purpose, so I can prolong the pleasure? Give me some credit. Why would I do that?"

No, Lily hadn't been able to answer that one when she'd asked it herself.

"Have you ever thought to ask Potter where he goes when the teams do Fitness Flying?" he said. "Do you fondly imagine that we all spend an entire day circling the grounds and practising loop-the-loops over the Castle? They call it 'endurance training' and that's damn well what it is: hours on a broomstick, crossing different terrain - the idea is, it improves physical stamina and gives you experience of different atmospheric conditions - thermals, pressure variations, varying cloud density, wind-speeds, the moisture content in the air - they all affect how the broom responds. I've flown over this way a couple of times. And so, I imagine, has your darling Potter."

Another dig at James. The evidence against him was accumulating. Lily resented the implied accusation; Snape had no proof. Pursing her lips, she allowed this slur against James to slide past her unchecked.

Lily had got to where she was today - Head Girl of Hogwarts and an outstanding student - thorough a combination of natural talent, beauty and intelligence, along with diligence, kindness, sensitivity and tact. She knew when to fight and when to let things go. Her other qualities were determination and a quiet assertiveness. It was this last attribute that she opted to employ when dealing with Snape.

"I'm freezing! You're going to have to share that cloak," she declared, changing the subject abruptly and sitting down on the mattress next to him - somehow it seemed a permissible liberty now. She carefully avoided any contact. "But don't get any ideas, OK?"

_As if! I'm hardly going to jump you like this, now am I?_

"Take the damn cloak," he hissed. "Just don't yank it out from under me."

When he was lying there, stoical and uncomplaining, discussing flying techniques, it had been too easy to forget that he was still in acute pain. Lily softened.

"I promise I'm not going to bump into you, or push you. But I don't want you to get cold either. I just need something to put over my legs - my toes are so numb they'll fall off." She shuffled her feet into the warmth. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? As for anything else - well, don't flatter yourself. Let's get one thing straight, Snape - you're not my type."

"And Potter is?"

"Oh, give over sniping at James! I've had it up to here. What is it with you two? You don't even know him." _Was he jealous? Could Snape actually be jealous of James?_

"I know enough."

"Listen to yourself! What do you know? James is a nice person. He and Sirius - they're both really nice guys."

"Black? That thoughtless bully? What a poseur!" Snape spat.

"You've got him all wrong. Sirius is… I know he behaves like he's _Mr Suave_, but that's mostly an act. And James… James is great! We have a good time." _How had the conversation become this personal? Was she discussing her relationship with James - with Severus Snape?_

"_Nice_? _A good time_?" Snape made it sound like a perversion.

"Yes. Fun. Something you wouldn't know about. For goodness' sake, I'm only 'going out' with the bloke - it's not as though we're getting married. James is good company: he's considerate and caring and attractive and brave and reliable…"

"And _exciting_?" Snape needled her.

_Yes, Lily, **exciting**. Don't look at me like that. You heard me. Does he **excite** you, Miss Lily Evans? Does your body** thrill** to his touch? Does he **turn you on**?_

"That's none of your damn business!" Lily threw aside the cloak and leaped up. Flinching involuntarily, Snape jerked away, only to stop with a yelp as white-hot shards sliced through his spine, his sciatic nerves and into every jangling fibre of his body.

"Ahhh! Ow!"

Lily watched him shuddering on the mattress as she let her indignation simmer to a more manageable level. Why had that insinuation made her so furious? Snape sure knew which buttons to press. How had he guessed that James - hunky, honourable, heart-throb James – could also be just a little bit dull?

"You deserved that. Don't expect any sympathy from me," she muttered, tucking the cloak back round Snape and pulling it over her own legs. The strain of their situation had effectively eradicated any chance of a suggestive frisson between them. "And just 'cos I'm here, it doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

After a few minutes of low-boil hostility, she relented.

"That was some move, by the way. It was virtually a Woollongong Shimmy (1)."

"I thought you were coming at me with a Transylvanian Tackle (2)," he responded in kind. There was an unspoken, sporting truce.

"Actually, you're not so bad at Quidditch," Lily commented, thinking back to the last Gryffindor-Slytherin house match at which she had spectated. The banality of the subject helped to tide them over the awkwardness. "But you over-think the game. It's not chess, you know - you can't plan three moves ahead. You need to react more instinctively."

"So you're an expert now?"

"Well, I've sat through enough games… and training and tournaments and the blow by blow re-plays in the common room afterwards. You can't be a Quidditch groupie without learning the rules."

"Have you never wanted to play yourself?" Snape was curious.

"Me? Can you see me in Quidditch robes? Getting bashed about by Bludgers? No thank you. I'd rather watch and then pick up the pieces afterwards."

"Is that what you're doing now? Picking up the pieces? Forget it. Don't do me any favours."

At school Lily had always regarded Snape as something of a nit-picker, short-tempered and pedantic. She hadn't altered her opinion, but there was, she realised, another side to the coin: he was very intelligent and, being highly-strung, was sensitive to every nuance. If he weren't so touchy he'd make a stimulating companion - in small, measured doses. She wouldn't be able to put up with that caustic, cactus tongue for long. Since she'd been spending time with James and Sirius she'd become so used to hearing them refer to him as the 'slimy git' that she'd almost forgotten he might have a personality of his own.

She stared at him in confusion.

"To be honest, Snape, I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is we're here and we've got to make the best of it, whether you like it or not. I've no reason to hate you - I don't particularly like you much either - but if you despise me for what I am, then that's your problem - it's your loss. There's nothing I can do about it.

"Look, if you're right about James - and I'm not saying you are - about him plotting this farce, then all I can say is 'I'm sorry'. I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted you to get hurt. Not like this. There must have been some mistake. This ludicrous feud! It's pathetic! When we get back to Hogwarts, I want you to leave James to me. No, Snape, I mean it. I'll sort out James. Or were you planning to go running to Dumbledore?"

_What would be the point? He'd never side with me against his favourite Gryffindor - the perfect, unimpeachable paragon, Potter._ Snape could see it all: James would walk away from this scot free, just like he did last time, and the times before that…

"Are you listening, Snape? No grudge matches. How long are you going to go on taking pot shots at one another? One of these days one of you is going to get killed… Look, can we talk about something else?"

"Who says I want to talk?"

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. It's ignominious for you to be hob-nobbing with the likes of me."

"You said it."

"You don't have to keep up appearances here - it's not as though they can see you, is it, - your Slytherin pals? They won't know. What's the penalty for fraternising with a Gryffindor? Honestly, Snape, I can't see why you hang out with that crowd - Avery, Wilkes and LeStrange. They're not your type."

_Maybe not, but they're the only people in the school who don't treat me like shit - sly, self-serving, Slytherin shit._

"Just tell me this, Snape - what makes you and your Pureblood fanatics think you're so special? Can't you see it's all elitist nonsense?"

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" The smirk conveniently veiled his misgivings.

"Yes. Yes it does. Shouldn't it? I'm not bothered for myself - I can fight my own battles; I've got nothing to be ashamed of. What really bothers me is how somebody as obviously intelligent as you can have got brainwashed by this Pureblood propaganda. The only thing that's pure about it is the prejudice. Sirius and James and Peter - and Remus - they're all from Pureblood families and they don't have a problem with me."

"Blood traitors!"

"What makes you so _superior_? You're no different from the rest of them. You're talking to me right now, aren't you?"

"Do I have any choice?"

It was Lily's turn to give him a patronising smile.

"D'you know, Snape, I think you're a fraud. I don't think you despise me at all. I think you _like_ me and you're ashamed to admit it. It's an affectation. You claim to support these high-minded ideals about preserving the purity of Wizardry, but are you telling me…" She leaned closer to him. "…that if I took my blouse off right now, you wouldn't be _interested_?"

Snape's body needed little encouragement to betray his principles.

"You bitch!"

"Spell it with a 'W' if you don't mind," she retorted archly, pulling away again. "I'm disappointed in you, Snape. I've given you so many opportunities to be gallant… You could have said, "I don't despise you, Lily," or, "Lily, you're the exception that proves the rule," but no, you can't bring yourself to say it, can you? Would it kill you, for once in your life, to say something _nice_?"

It was a dangerous game and Lily knew it. Why was she teasing Snape? To get back at him? To show him what it was like to be on the receiving end for a change? Didn't that make her as much of a bully as James and Sirius? Because she knew he fancied her? Because she wanted to punish him for forcing her to question her relationship with James? Or simply because she could? _What_ was she doing?

"Severus, that was unfair of me. I'm sorry."

Silence.

How very different it would be if it were James lying there instead of Snape. He would have allowed her to look after him, to show her compassion. He would have revelled in his wounded martyr routine and wallowed in her tender attention. Oh James was so wonderfully huggable!

The last thing Lily wanted to do was to hug Snape (for one thing, she was never quite convinced that he was properly clean; she couldn't help feeling that there was something slightly _unwholesome_ about him), but she would have been kinder to him - if he wasn't so remote, so discouraging, so intent on keeping her at a distance, behaving as if all he wanted was for her to shut up and go away and leave him to suffer alone. Lily refused to believe that was what he really wanted. She touched him lightly on the shoulder. This time he didn't flinch.

"Try and go to sleep. You won't notice the pain so much if you're asleep."

Another age of silence passed before Snape answered. He sounded tired and fretful.

"I can't sleep. I can't get comfortable. The minute I stop bracing myself and relax I get these shooting pains… Can you just… keep talking?"

Keep talking? Lily pondered. There was something most incongruous about sitting in the dark, chatting to Severus Snape and sharing his cloak.

"I'll tell you someone who really is suave," she began, "I mean, not playing at it like Sirius, but the real McCoy. And that's your friend, Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy? I didn't really know him when he was at Hogwarts - I was a bit in awe of him, I think. He seemed so frightfully grown-up. He's got a real air of 'something' about him. Very - oh, I don't know - elegant, poised…"

"I'll tell him!"

"You'd better not! But don't you think he has a certain 'presence'? If you're looking for a style guru… I'm not talking about his politics - he's another of your misguided zealots, isn't he? But physically… If I were you, I'd model myself on him - you could do a lot worse. You need to start by standing up straighter. I know you're tall, but it doesn't mean you have to be round-shouldered. Walk tall!"

"If I ever walk again."

"Sorry, Snape. No self-pity permitted. Madame Pomfrey will fix you. No, she will - I've seen her mend all sorts of horrendous injuries. She knows her stuff. You mustn't worry." Her voice was calm, reassuring. "By this time tomorrow you'll have forgotten all about it."

That wasn't true. Neither of them would ever forget this day.

"I didn't realise you still kept in touch with Malfoy." Lily had seen the distress creeping into Snape's expression and she was anxious to distract him. "I saw you two together this afternoon in Hogsmeade."

"I met him for a drink." Snape was suddenly cagey again.

"I thought perhaps he'd come to offer you a job."

"What makes you say that?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, I don't know. But he's got contacts, hasn't he? Influential people, in the Ministry and so on? You'd do well to keep 'in' with people like that. So, if you're not working for Malfoy, what are you going to do - after NEWTs?"

"I haven't finalised my plans."

"Aha! You do have plans then? Let me guess - what are your best subjects? DADA? Potions? You could always teach…"

"There is absolutely _no way_ that I'm going to become a teacher! Don't insult my intelligence. The sooner I see the back of Hogwarts the better. The way some of you talk you'd think that wretched school was the hub of the universe. There's a life outside Hogwarts, you know. You'll see, soon enough… What about you?"

Lily had the impression that he was deflecting the subject away from himself and his career.

"James and I have already applied for the Auror Training scheme. Sirius is thinking about it too, though, personally, I don't think he's got the self-discipline. I can't see him stuck in an office job either. I don't know what he'll end up doing."

"Gigolo? Playboy?"

"Watch it! He's my friend."

"Politician then. He's two-faced, insincere, unscrupulous and inordinately obsessed with his appearance and public image. The perfect candidate. You wait - he'll be the next Minister for Magic."

Lily smiled in spite of herself - it had never crossed her mind that Snape might have a sense of humour, even one as black and dry as soot. He always seemed so unremittingly joyless. Or had he not been joking? It was difficult to tell.

Snape's opinion of her also appeared to be undergoing some reassessment.

"Auror?" he expressed surprise. "That's a tough option. Dangerous too. It's a good way to lose your friends and make a lot of enemies."

Lily was wondering whether, after tonight, Snape would be included in her list of friends.

"Don't worry about me. I can handle it. I can do 'tough' when I have to."

_Yes, Evans, I'm sure you can._

"Is there such a thing as a _Wandless Warming Charm_ anyway?" she asked him, thinking of his earlier remark.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe. Probably." He was vague. Since when had Severus Snape ever been vague? With a heavy sigh - half grunt, half groan – he let his head drop back onto his arm. Suddenly he looked very young, ill, miserable and terribly tired. Lily kept talking softly.

"We could do with that Charm now. Can you do any Wandless magic? I've always thought it should be a compulsory part of the curriculum - look at us - take our wands away and we're worse than Muggles. You should be good at it. I've read that wizards who excel at potions - and, come off it, if anybody does, it's you - tend to have an aptitude for working wandless. Or having telepathic skills - that's another indicator. It's all to do with channelling the magic, isn't it? Like 'intent'? I'm utterly hopeless at it. I'm pretty OK at Charms usually, but without a wand I'm sunk - like the proverbial drowned dragon. Although… No, never mind; you wouldn't want to know."

She reconsidered, undecided, torn, aware that this brief intimacy with Snape was, at best, temporary and artificial, notional even, a fragile meniscus whose surface tension would bear no weight.

"Know what? Let me be the judge of that." Curt again. Lily knew she had been right to be cautious. One should never take anything for granted with Snape. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she asked,

"Do you trust me?"

"Should I?" He was immediately wary, on his guard.

"I promise it's not a trick or anything. Severus, do you trust me not to hurt you?"

The dark eyes narrowed, clouding with suspicion and a hint of alarm.

"Do I get a say in this? If you think that just because I can't walk, I…"

"Shhh. It's nothing awful. It's something Madame Pomfrey taught me. It might help. But if you'd rather I didn't…"

With James it would have been a good-humoured, jaunty leap into the unknown, "Bring it on, baby! Do your worst!", but with Snape it was just that searching, probing stare which seemed to penetrate her very skull until, finally, his eyebrows lifted in a twitch that Lily took to signify assent.

"Show me where it hurts," she said gently.

One hand moved hesitantly to rest on his lower spine.

"This won't cure it or anything, but… The thing is, Severus," she explained, "you're all tensed up. Your muscles are in spasm, but they'll never get better when you're so tense. You've got to relax. Now, just a minute while I concentrate. I've got to focus. And remember, I'm not going to hurt you. Trust me. Shut your eyes."

Snape closed his eyes. Then he felt her hands - Healing hands - sliding under his waistband and resting very lightly just below the small of his back. A wonderful, soothing heat flooded his nerves, easing the pain.

"Try to relax," she whispered.

_Relax? He was practically in bed with Lily Evans – Lily Evans! - and she had her hands in his trousers and she was telling him to **relax**?_

When he woke up it was already daylight, and Lily had gone.

**End of chapter.**

**Next chapter: CRUEL TO BE KIND. So is Lily a saint or a she-devil? Find out in the final instalment!**

1 Woollongong Shimmy – zig-zag sideways avoidance manoeuvre (QTTA)

2 Translyvanian Tackle – attacking manoeuvre involving a feinting punch to the face (QTTA)


	5. CRUEL TO BE KIND

**BACKFIRED !**

**By Bellegeste**

**A/N: Here we are at the last chapter already. Don't think too badly of Lily - she may be manipulative, but she haseveryone's best interests at heart...**

**Chapter 5:CRUEL TO BE KIND**

"Madame Pomfrey!"

"Oh, there you are, dear. How are those blisters? Not found any more splinters? They can work their way up after a day or so, you know. I'd keep an eye on them. And I'd watch that Swamp-Fly sting too - they can get infected, even after you've had the antidote."

"I'm fine, honestly. Good as new, thanks to you," Lily assured her with a radiant smile. "Madame Pomfrey, have you seen James?"

"Mr Potter? Oh yes, dear - he was down here first thing this morning looking for you. Though I'm not sure if he knew you were here, or whether he'd popped in on the off-chance. Biggest bunch of red roses I've ever seen. You're a lucky girl! He was quite put out when I said I hadn't seen you. That was right, wasn't it? You did say not to tell Mr Potter…?"

The matron didn't, as a rule, allow herself to be dragged in to the students' love lives, though she was the soul of discretion when it came to the number of prohibited and mis-brewed love potions, Hate Hexes and Jilted Jinxes she was called upon to reverse on an almost daily basis. But for Lily Evans she was prepared to bend the rules a fraction.

"Have you two had a quarrel?" she inquired in a motherly way.

"Something like that." Lily's expression was unusually severe. Red roses! She snorted to herself in disgust. Pink or yellow roses, please, but never red! Or freesia, her favourite… a few stems of scented freesia were preferable to a whole bucketful of red roses.

"How's Severus?"

A flicker of disapproval glinted in Madame Pomfrey's eyes, but she kept her opinions to herself. Evans and Potter made such a lovely couple! It would be a shame if anything were to spoil it.

"The poor boy's still asleep. He was completely exhausted."

"But is he…?"

"I'll be recommending he gives Quidditch a miss for a few days, and he'll need to be careful, but apart from that - nothing rest, fresh air and a couple of square meals won't put right."

Lily's relief must have been all too apparent. Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips.

"Far be it from me to pry into what you get up to in your free time, young lady, but if that Slytherin has been putting ideas into your head… Dark Arts indeed!" She tutted.

"What do you mean?"

"That wasn't a common or garden slipped disc I've been Healing. That boy had severe spell damage. It could have been very nasty. And from what you've told me, you got off very lightly yourself. It doesn't do to dabble in these things, dear."

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Lily apologised - for the time-being it was easier than protesting her innocence and getting embroiled in explanations. Dark Arts? She'd 'Dark Arts' James when she saw him!

"Can I sit with him?" She nodded to the far end of the ward, where the screens were pulled around Snape's bed. "I want to be here when he wakes up. Oh, Madame Pomfrey? If James comes back…"

"My lips are sealed," the matron vowed. She clicked into her office shaking her head, not at all sanguine about this turn of events.

x

x

x

Lily sat by the bedside thinking about James, alternately missing him and seething with indignation. How dare he? For she was now convinced that Snape's interpretation had been correct: a thoughtless prank. She was equally sure that James would never have intended her to get involved. Not her, just Snape. Her stomach clutched when she imagined what might have happened if she hadn't been there and Snape had ended up in the hut alone…

James needed to be taught a lesson. So did the others - Peter and Sirius - but she had a more immediate influence over James. She'd begin with him. What could she do? Tell Professor Dumbledore? No, she didn't want to get James into that much trouble, especially with exams coming up, and then reports and references… Break up with him then? Shout? That would be a start. But no amount of shouting would ever really get through to James - they'd had rows before and arguments just rebounded off James like hexes off dragon-hide. Nor did she want to provide him - and the others - with any more ammunition to use against Snape. If they knew he'd been so badly injured it would give them just one more ignominy with which to taunt him.

Lily could see James now - contrite, anxious to please, eager to make up for his mistakes, but with no genuine remorse, not fully comprehending the extent of the damage - like a puppy caught chewing on a slipper, realising it has been naughty but not understanding what all the fuss is about.

Oh James! Lily was awfully fond of that puppy! But even puppies sometimes have to be taught a lesson.

A sixth sense, a self-conscious awareness made her look up and she turned towards the bed to find that Snape's eyes were open and he was quietly observing her. How long had he been awake? Lily felt uncomfortable, unnerved by that strange, silent scrutiny. She jumped up, not wanting him to realise how worried she had been.

"I made it, you see. You didn't think I had it in me, did you? Blisters like you wouldn't believe, but - well, we're here, aren't we?" Too bright; too breezy. Still the dark, brooding eyes absorbing her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked more softly. "Can you sit up?"

Very gingerly at first and then with more confidence, Snape pushed himself upright.

"You OK?"

He nodded.

"Want to try standing? Walking?"

Lily took his arm as he slid his long legs out of the bed and tentatively levered himself to his feet. For a moment she felt his weight leaning against her, not trusting in his recovery, and then he straightened and took a couple of steps.

"Still feeling OK? Back to normal? No pain?"

"No," he murmured, monosyllabic, mistrustful. It was almost as though he knew.

"That's good," she said decisively, giving him a shove in the chest which sent him sitting back down on the bed in a hurry. "Because there's something I want to get absolutely straight with you, Severus Snape."

He scowled at her.

"I can guess. Potter."

"Got it in one. When we were… in that place, you agreed to leave James to me." Lily brought all her assertive powers to bear and stared at him, unblinking and determined, dominating him physically as she stood before him, and hoping to win a victory through sheer force of personality.

"I did nothing of the sort," Snape retorted coldly. "You may have asked me to. Did you hear me agree?"

"But, in any event, you are going to… leave James to me?" Hypnosis would have come in handy here, Lily reflected.

Snape returned her gaze sullenly, black eyes versus green, meeting a resistance and a will as stubborn as his own.

"Look, Snape," Lily exclaimed in exasperation, "If you retaliate against James now, this whole feud is going to escalate again - and then where will we be?"

"I'll kill him." A statement, not a threat.

"Oh, yes, well, that's very grown up! And what - spend the rest of your life in Azkaban? That's one way of solving your career problems." Lily had no patience with the kind of male bravado which reduced every disagreement to a test of magical skill or actual fisticuffs.

"He deserves it," snarled Snape, refusing to be deprived of his revenge.

"Maybe he does! I'm not trying to excuse what he did. It was horrible. I'm just saying that there are ways of punishing people which don't resort to violence. I know how to handle James."

"Withdrawal of _privileges_?" suggested Snape unpleasantly.

Lily angrily counted to ten. And then another ten. Why was she even bothering to protect them? Because she suspected that, if it came to a duel, dear James would be no match for the devious and dangerous Snape?

With an award-winning sigh, she sat down next to him on the bed, not touching but close enough to be distracting. For several minutes she gazed at her hands folded peacefully in her lap. Snape waited for her to make her move - for once he couldn't predict what it might be.

"It had occurred to me," she began at last, speaking calmly and conversationally as though she were discussing the plot of the latest best-seller, "that when we talk to James about what happened yesterday, it might be advantageous to be somewhat_ economical_ with the truth. For instance, it might be better if he didn't realise quite how effectively his spell worked." She turned to face Snape directly. "I wasn't going to tell him," she said pointedly.

"If you don't tell him, I will. That idiot almost paralysed me," Snape growled.

"But, Severus, do you really want James to _know_ that?" cried Lily, putting her hand on his arm. All of a sudden she wasn't quite sure whose side she was on. Then she remembered - her own.

For a second Snape wavered; he looked undecided and Lily thought she might be going to get away with it.

"So you think I should tell James _everything_?" she asked innocently, but with the emphasis on 'everything'.

"Tell him what you damn well like." Snape wasn't going to make it that easy. "You're not conning me into silence just so you can get your darling Potter off the hook. You don't tell me what to do. Do you think I'm afraid of a bit of Gryffindor gossip? You're blackmailing me to lay off Potter, so that you can save his thick skin!"

"And yours," Lily added significantly.

She'd been hoping that she wouldn't have to resort to blackmail, but, if it came to a choice between Snape's ego and James' life, she was prepared to be cruel - very cruel…

"I imagine James and Sirius would be rather interested to hear that you spent your weekend whimpering on the floor…"

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me. Or…" Lily went on, hating herself for what she was about to say, knowing that it was going to wound him - and she honestly didn't want to hurt him, or anybody, if she could help it - knowing also that it was the ultimate weapon in her peace-keeping strategy. "Or they might like to know how you nearly wet yourself… or, Snivellus, how I saw you crying…"

Snape was white with anger.

"You bitch! You scheming, manipulative, f------ bitch!" he hissed.

_A bitch defending her puppy!_

Lily stood up, relieved that Snape, fists clenched, was staring fixedly at the ground, not meeting her eyes, and couldn't therefore see her shaking.

"Get dressed and meet me outside in ten minutes," she ordered. "Oh, and brush your teeth."

xxx

Punctual to the second, Snape appeared through the archway. He was 'walking tall', Lily noticed at once but slowly and a little stiffly. When he wasn't slouching, she thought, he had quite a commanding presence of his own - never mind Lucius Malfoy.

"I've sent James an owl to meet me at the lake," she declared without preamble. "Come on. Or is that too far for you to walk? Are you sure your back's all right? Madame Pomfrey said you had to take it easy to begin with. Let me know if you need to rest."

The unexpected swing from dominatrix to concerned carer threw Snape and he couldn't think of a suitably barbed reply.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," he objected.

"No? Oh, OK then. I'll just tell James where you are and he'll come to find you. Is that what you want? Whatever was I thinking - that you might like me to be there when you confront James? I mean, he only thinks we spent the night together… He'll probably want to shake your hand. Severus, for Merlin's sake, you haven't even got your wand! Don't be silly. Come on."

With a friendliness that Snape found completely disconcerting, Lily took his arm. Matching her pace to his, she led him to the spot on the shore where several paths converged, from where they would have a clear view of anyone approaching. Small groups of sunbathers, making the most of the afternoon sunshine, looked up with interest to see the Head Girl strolling with the tight-lipped, straight-backed Slytherin. By now Snape was regarding her with a bemused mixture of animosity and grudging admiration.

"What did that Hat think it was doing, sorting you into Gryffindor?" he muttered at one point.

"Look, there they are," she said, spying three figures in the distance. "He's brought the troops. Now, remember, leave them to me if you want to get out of this with your balls intact."

Snape would never have imagined such language coming from the mouth of the lovely but, as he had supposed, unworldly Lily Evans, and he had to acknowledge that he had been guilty of underestimating her.

When the three Marauders were about five hundred yards down the path, Lily turned to Snape and slid her arms round his waist, pulling him against her.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

"Are you **_mad_**?"

"Just do it. Now!" she told him, urgently. "Trust me."

_Trust you?_ _You're blackmailing me into being here, into facing up to Potter in some contrived revenge ritual - Merlin knows why I'm here at all! I must be the one who's mad – and you expect me to **trust** you?_ He was both astounded and deeply impressed by her nerve and effrontery. She was utterly shameless, and indecipherable - like the Sphinx.

"You trusted me last night," she murmured. The memory of soft, warm hands worked on him like _Persuading Potion_, and he felt himself succumbing to her touch.

"Oh, come on, Snape." Discarding the sultry siren act, Lily was suddenly impatient. "I know how James' mind works. Seeing is believing. This 'll save time. Actions speak louder than words."

_That's what worries me! I'd rather save my neck!_ Snape leaned forwards and, his eyes still anxiously tracking the approaching figures, gave her a guarded peck on the forehead.

"No, not like that," she complained. "Is that the best you can do? That's not going to convince James of anything. This is your big chance, boyo, so you might as well make the most of it. Kiss me _properly_! I assume you do know _how_? Or is that too much to expect? And please to goodness try to pretend you're enjoying it!"

_Pretend?_

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER, YOU BASTARD!" James roared.

More flustered and a great deal more breathless than she had originally intended, Lily disengaged herself from Snape's willing lips. She collected herself and smiled sweetly at James.

"Hi! Thanks for coming. Isn't it a super day? I was rather hoping you'd let us have our wands back. You do have them?"

"Lily!" James howled. "What's he done to you? Put you under _Imperius_? What are you doing - letting yourself be mauled by that psycho? I don't believe it!"

"Believe it."

"Where've you been all this time? I've been looking all over for you. I've been out of my mind! If he's touched you… or hurt you… so help me, I'll… I'll… And as for **you**, you foul, disgusting, slimy… Wait till I get my hands on you - you'll wish you'd never been born, you stinking, rotten… you, you…" He fell into clichés of blustering abuse.

Lily smartly side-stepped in between them.

"Well, we've just come from the hospital wing," she informed James, blithely ignoring his ranting. Snape glanced at her sharply, but she went on, "I ended up with a few blisters - my shoes were completely wrong; you could have warned me - but it was worth it. The views up there on Cairnmhor are simply stunning! And the sunset! Oh, you should have seen the sunset, it was breathtaking! It was such a wonderful night we decided to take the scenic route home. Honestly, it was so clear we could see all the stars - there were the most amazing shooting stars too, weren't there, Severus?"

Snape, who had been gaping at the girl as though she had just Apparated in from an asylum, shrugged weakly and gave a strained smile. Lily leaned back against his chest and, almost without thinking, he placed his hands protectively on her shoulders. He was breathing in the musky sandalwood scents of her hair.

James gulped and spluttered.

"You needn't worry, James - Severus has been _looking after_ me. He's been really _considerate_." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, pressing herself just that bit closer. Snape knew he was lost, enslaved. "In fact," Lily gushed, "Severus has been fantastic! I'm sorry, James, but your little joke seems to have backfired!"

Snape, anticipating imminent decapitation or dismemberment, and aware that he was in no shape to make a run for it, clung on to Lily, holding her before him like a human shield. Lily had been playing emotional roulette with James, but she had placed her bets wisely: the wheel spun through outrage, anger, disgust, aggression, violence, jealousy, guilt, humiliation and surrender, and came to rest on dismay. James' whole body sagged in defeat, but he tried to salvage some dignity from his trampled pride. He motioned to Sirius.

"Give them the wands."

"But James, you're winning on points - take advantage of it while you can! How often do you get a chance like this? Surely you're not going to throw the whole match now!" Sirius looked as though Christmas had been cancelled(1). He shook his head in disappointment, decrying James' easy capitulation. "We've got his _wand, _for Merlin's sake - he's a sitting duck! At least send him for a quick swim in the lake, or fly him round the pitch and post him through a hoop! How many points do you get for a Slytherin own goal?"

"What do goals matter when he's already caught the Snitch?" James replied morosely. "Give them the wands."

Lily tensed as Snape reached out his hand. This was a potential flashpoint. Frowning, she caught his eye and, reluctantly (and somewhat meekly, she noted with satisfaction) he returned the wand unused to his pocket.

"James!" Lily launched her ultimatum. "I want you to think very carefully about which is more important to you: the feud with Severus, or me. Because you can't have both. And another thing - I don't think much of amateurs playing at Dark Arts and practising on my _friends_. Come on, Severus."

Taking Snape by the hand she led him away, through the tittering gaggle of onlookers and towards the castle.

"There you are!" she smiled triumphantly. "Reputation and balls intact! Actually, I'd say your reputation may have just gone up by several notches… Poor old James! I'll let him stew for a few days and then I'll think about forgiving him. On condition that he drops the feud."

"You, Lily Evans, are an evil succubus!"

"It's all part of the service. And you…"

"Yes?"

"You, Severus Snape, may not be my type, but I was wrong about one thing - you do know how to kiss!"

**x**

**x**

**End of story. Aaah! A happy ending! (of sorts)**

**We know from canon that Lily and James got married soon, so we have to assume that he was a good puppy…**

**Do you think James really reformed or is JKR not telling us the whole story?**

**Thanks for all your reviews.**

1 Christmas had been cancelled - a nod here to the Sheriff of Nottingham (Robin Prince of Thieves)


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